Anniversary
by Anna Fugazzi
Summary: Oneshot sequel in three parts for Bond. Timestamp meme for Calíope Amphora, who asked for a story set postBond, for the boys' first anniversary.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** The Timestamp Meme was pretty simple: give me any one of my fics and a timestamp, and I'll write you at least 100 words. Problem: I babble. This time, Caliope Amphora said _May I ask Bond as well - and since someone has already had the great idea of "three years later", could I go for something like "the 1st anniversary"? 'Cause there's a line in chapter 14 when Draco says "Remind me to point and laugh at you at every anniversary then" when they're talking about the new regulation and I've always thought it was so sweet!_

So, 6555 words later...

**ooooo**

"Pass the butter, please," said Hermione.

"So how is Ron doing now?" asked Blaise as he handed it over.

"Oh, better. Thank god," she said, buttering her toast.

"Gave us a scare, though," Harry said.

"What was he doing, anyway?" Blaise asked, and rolled his eyes as Harry and Hermione exchanged an uncomfortable look. "Never mind, I didn't ask."

"It's not that we don't want to tell-"

"Never mind," Blaise repeated, annoyance tinged with affection in his voice. "It doesn't matter. He was off doing something terribly heroic, you could tell me but then you'd have to kill me, he got hurt, now he's better. That's really all anybody needs to know."

"That and he'll be out of the hospital in two more days," Draco said, and was pleased to note that his voice didn't betray his wistful anticipation of the date... much. The Trio had been gone for three weeks before coming back from their latest foray, and Draco had been eagerly looking forward to having Harry to himself again. But Weasley had been injured and Harry had insisted that Granger stay at their place until Weasley was better. And it wasn't that Granger was all that tiresome these days, but he was very much looking forward to having her out from underfoot for at least a few days before they all had to take off again.

Blaise smirked at him. "Yes, there is that. Oh Draco," he said, an innocent expression on his face. "I forgot, how's your, erm, broomstick these days? Getting much riding done?"

Draco suppressed a laugh and stepped on Blaise's foot under the table. "It's doing just fine, thanks. But not much riding, no."

"What happened to your broomstick?" Hermione asked.

"Erm, not enough flying. Gets jittery. Nothing to worry about."

"It probably just needs some tender loving care," Blaise said, and bit his lip at the toe-grinding Draco gave him.

Harry frowned, distracted by his toast. "You never told me your broomstick was off. When did that happen?"

Draco opened his mouth and was saved from having to answer as an oddly familiar brown owl tapped at the window and Harry got up to let it in.

"Did you order something?" Harry asked as he removed a small letter from the owl's foot and tossed it to Draco.

Draco shook his head as he opened the small envelope. "It's got your name on it too, Harry," he said as he opened it up. "Fuck!" he exclaimed, and Blaise looked over his shoulder immediately, his mouth dropping open.

"Mordred! What's she thinking?"

"'_Hoping you have a wonderful day_' - she's gone mad," Draco sputtered in disbelief.

"What is it?" Harry and Hermione asked.

"I knew I recognized the bloody owl," said Blaise, looking shocked. "It's from Pansy."

"Parkinson?!" Hermione and Harry exclaimed.

"It says Jennifer Stuyvesant, but it's Pansy all right."

"What's she saying? Is she defecting?" Harry asked.

"No, she's not," Draco said flatly, re-reading the simple message. "She wishes to congratulate us on our first year of marriage."

"Our what?"

"Today's our anniversary, apparently," said Draco, shaking his head in disbelief. "And she decided this would be an excellent time to throw caution to the winds and take her brain on holiday and endanger herself by congratulating us. What a splendid first year anniversary gift that would be. Crucioed Pansy."

"Funny that," Blaise said, sounding utterly unamused. "It's supposed to be the Parchment Anniversary, not the Dead Friend Anniversary."

"Fuck, she's insane. And of all things, our bloody anniversary!"

"I didn't realize the date..." Harry said.

"No, nor did I," Draco said. "God, what an idiot!"

"I take it she didn't do this for your real first anniversary," Hermione said.

"Well I hardly think an anniversary counts as such if you divorced before the end of the year," Blaise pointed out.

"Not to mention didn't consent to or even remember the blessed event in the first place," said Draco. "Bloody hell. What's the matter with her?"

"I've told you, she's not happy over there," Blaise said.

"So she'd be happier Crucioed into imbecility? Or maybe she already has been; it would certainly explain this bloody card." He tossed the card to the table and got up to get himself a tea.

"Come on, Draco, it's just a card," said Harry.

"It's a card sent by somebody with Emerson's Death Eaters to somebody who is decidedly not," Draco shot back, pouring himself a tea. "It's stupid and unnecessary and insane." He scowled at his tea for a moment, then poured it down the drain and reached for the espresso.

"You weren't planning on celebrating your anniversary, I take it?" Hermione asked neutrally.

"What? No, of course not, why would we?" Draco said brusquely, filling his mug.

"Generally people do."

"Generally people don't spend half of their first year married tracking down all sorts of Death Eaters," Harry pointed out. "Or in hiding. It's not that big a deal."

"You don't mind?" she asked.

"No, of course not," said Harry. "Why would I?"

Draco breathed a sigh of relief as the espresso burned down his throat, and made himself take a step back from the nasty shock of Pansy's card. What a stupid - of all the times for Pansy to go Hufflepuff on him... now, of all times, when Harry and the rest of the Order were so close to finding the last of the Death Eater splinter groups, and said groups were turning on each other in a frenzy of betrayals and sell-outs and vendettas... _now_ Pansy decided to make a move like this...

Although maybe it actually was a move on her part. Maybe she was going to try to defect soon, or knew her group was going to be tracked down soon, and was hoping to remind Draco that he'd promised to be her contact on the other side, should she ever need one. As if she needed to remind him.

He swallowed the last of the espresso and picked up the card. "Granger, would you mind checking this for charms and spells?"

"You don't think she would have sent something to harm you-" Hermione started, her eyes growing wider, and Draco rolled his eyes impatiently.

"No, of course not, but I do wonder if maybe she put something in there to try to get us information. Maybe turn spy, or ask us to go get her."

"Yeah, that might be it," Blaise said, and frowned at the card. "Here, I'll probably have better luck than you, Granger, I know Pansy much better. I know what she's likely to send."

"Burn it when you're done with it, Blaise," Draco said.

"Right," Blaise said, and picked it up. "I trust you two know enough not to mention this to anybody?" he said to Harry and Hermione, who both nodded. "Well, I'll get going, then. I have to meet Mother at Diagon in a few hours. Don't worry, Draco, if there's anything on the card, I'll find it." He grabbed a handful of Floo powder and stepped into the Floo.

"Thanks," Draco said, and put down his espresso. "Bloody hell, I forgot I'm supposed to meet Severus in an hour too." He hurried to the Floo.

"Don't say anything like Happy Anniversary," Hermione said softly, and Draco threw her a puzzled look as he stepped into the Floo.

**ooooo**

"Do you ever think you missed out by not having a real wedding?" Harry asked that night in their small lab, as he finished a report and Draco checked his potion stocks.

"What?" Draco asked, squinting at his Shrivelfig and trying to decide whether he needed to order more.

"Do you ever think you missed out by not having a real wedding?" Harry repeated.

Draco frowned and looked down. "Have I suddenly grown breasts?"

Harry laughed. "No, I was just wondering. Weddings are usually a big deal in the wizarding world, aren't they? Like in the Muggle world?"

"I wouldn't know about the Muggle world. Yeah, they're big, depending on who's getting married."

"Would yours have been big if you'd married whoever you thought you were going to marry?"

"Oh, probably," Draco said indifferently, adding Shrivelfig to his list of ingredients to order. "I know my father wanted an advantageous match. Might've made the society pages of the Prophet. Why?"

"I just wondered."

"Why?"

"Oh, nothing, just..." Harry shrugged, scratched a correction onto his report. "I just wondered if you would've enjoyed something like that."

"Why would I?"

"You used to like being the centre of attention."

Draco snorted indelicately. "I think I had enough of that last year, what with the Prophet reporting every event and speculation and sneeze from either one of us for most of the year."

Harry chuckled. "So you're cured of that particular desire, then?"

"Permanently."

"It would've been better publicity than what we got for our bond, though. It would've been favourable."

"Unless the Malfoy name was in the toilet, or I was married off to somebody whose family was a follower of Voldemort."

"But if it wasn't? Would you have been happy with a big wedding?"

"I suppose so, yes," Draco said absently, then looked up from his list. "Why are you asking this?"

Harry shrugged.

"Why?"

"Just wondering. Can't I make conversation?"

Draco frowned, puzzled. "Of course. It just seems an odd thing to ask about. We didn't get a big public wedding, but that's over and done with, so why wonder about it?"

"And it doesn't bother you?"

"No, I said."

There was a long pause as Draco went back to his list, before something niggled at him and he looked up. "Why, does it bother you?"

"No, of course not," Harry said, and signed his report.

"Why, were you hoping for a big wedding some day?"

Harry laughed. "Why, have I grown breasts too?" Draco chuckled. "I wasn't raised to think about things like that. First the Dursleys made sure I understood that nobody would ever want to marry somebody like me, and during school I thought there was a good chance I would die long before I even thought of getting married." He tapped his quill on the tabletop absently. "Weddings, birthdays... anniversaries, whatever, all of that was for other people, as far as I could tell."

Draco nodded, and sniffed his jar of murtlap, deciding to add it to the list as well. "What are Muggle weddings like?" he asked curiously.

"How would I know?"

"Didn't you ever go to any as a child?"

"D'you honestly think the Dursleys would've taken me anywhere public like that? I was shoved off to Mrs. Figg's cats every time."

"Bloody hell, those people were idiots," Draco said, finishing his list of ingredients and putting it with his bookbag for the next day.

"Still are, probably."

"Wouldn't you love to back in time and hex them?"

"That would be brilliant," Harry chuckled.

"Better than going back in time to the day we were married and making it be a real wedding?"

Harry smiled and rolled up his report. "Absolutely. Come on, let's go to bed," he said, standing and stretching.

"You go on ahead. I have a bit more work to do."

"Oh. All right," Harry said, sounding a little disappointed.

"It's my Pepper-Up potion variation," Draco said apologetically. "I need to do a bit more work on it. Granger said she might be able to help with it."

"She should still be up."

"Right. I'll be up later."

"All right. Erm. Good night." Harry went upstairs.

Draco took out his slowly brewing potion, gazing at it and trying to figure out why it was greenish instead of ice-blue, as the instructions said it should be, while trying to ignore an annoying little buzz in his mind. A buzz that said that he was missing something.

He frowned. Maybe... maybe Granger could help him figure out what that something was.

**oooooo**

**Author's Note:** OK, I don't know if this is a problem with fanfiction dot net in general, or just my browser right now, but for the life of me I cannot seem to upload any chapter longer than 10 pages in Word. So, instead of a simple 24-page story, which I think makes sense, this tiny little story is demanding to be posted as three annoyingly bitty little chapters. Sorry, guys :(


	2. Chapter 2

Harry blinked, a little dazed as they finished Apparating. He put a hand on Draco's shoulder to steady himself.

"I don't think that shrivelfig Pepper-Up was brewed quite right," he told Draco, and Draco turned from his perusal of the street.

"Why's that?"

"I'm groggy, not energized."

Draco shrugged. "Granger said it might still be a little rough around the edges. I just need to fiddle with it."

"Wish you'd told me that before you gave it to me."

"You knew it was relatively new. You could've asked how thoroughly we'd tested it."

"Too disoriented by the situation. I swear, every time the two of you work together it still spooks me."

Draco chuckled. "Really? Still?"

"Yeah."

"You should be used to it by now," he said, and headed down the street.

"What is this place?" Harry asked as Draco stopped before a door with a discreet sign saying La Barbe.

"It's a restaurant."

"It's a Muggle restaurant."

"Very good, Harry," Draco said, unconcerned, and started up the steps.

"And we're here for what reason?"

Draco quirked an eyebrow at Harry. "Maybe I should dilute the Pepper-Up-"

"No, I know we're supposed to meet Hermione's Bulgarian friends for that information about the Paris Death Eaters, but why here?"

"They found tracking spells where we'd planned to meet, so I had to change the venue."

"Why'd you pick here?"

"Granger recommended it. It's a nice place and it's discreet, almost no chance of anybody knowing we're here. Why? Is something wrong with here?"

"Other than being Muggle? Nothing, it's just rather... pricey."

"You've been?"

"No, god no. Just drooled over it when I was a kid. My Aunt Petunia wanted to come here when Uncle Vernon made his first big deal. She even had a copy of the menu. They wouldn't have taken me though."

"Oh right, I remember you telling me this story before."

"You do?"

"Vaguely," Draco said, and looked around curiously as they entered and waited to be seated.

"You don't mind that it's a Muggle place?"

"My father took me to a few of these places when I was in school."

"Muggle restaurants?"

"Death Eaters use Muggle places to meet sometimes, you know that. Sometimes makes it easier to hide from the Ministry. I think he also thought they were good places to show an impressionable young child just how inferior Muggles were. Table for two, please," Draco told the young hostess who came to greet them.

"Aren't we meeting the Bulgarians?"

"We've got plenty of time before they get here."

Harry frowned. "But we're supposed to meet them at 7:30."

"I know," Draco said blandly, and suppressed a smirk at Harry's utter bewilderment.

"It's 7:20."

"We've got plenty of time."

"All right, you're not making any sense," Harry said after they were seated and the hostess had left.

"All right," Draco said, laughing, and gave in. "Look at your watch."

Harry looked. "7:20, like I told you."

"Now look at the date," Draco pointed to the tastefully discreet "Chef's Special" display near their table.

Harry frowned. "What the-"

"It's Friday. We're meeting the Bulgarians tomorrow."

Harry blinked. "What... why's it yesterday?"

"It's our anniversary."

"Whaat?"

"It's depressing sometimes how slowly the gears in your brain move. That potion I gave you wasn't Pepper-Up, it was watered down Confundizzy so that you'd not notice the effects of this." Draco held up a small round object.

"A Time Turner?"

"A Time Turner."

"To... to _yesterday_?"

"Technically, to today."

"But that's-"

"Skirting on illegal, yes."

"What... who-"

"Who did I have to blow to get this? Erm, excuse me, that's not a terribly polite thing to say on our anniversary." Draco smirked. "I have my sources."

"But why?"

"Why wouldn't I? Do you not think other couples celebrate anniversaries?"

"But we're neither one of us girls."

"That's highly observant of you. I'm not sure I like how long it's taken you to notice that, though. No, we're neither one of us girls, but neither are we just friends who happen to shag whenever Death Eaters aren't keeping you on your toes and me deep underground."

"So you... erm... planned this for... us?"

Draco shrugged with feigned nonchalance. "Why not? It seemed as good a time as any. Besides, what with your bizarre aversion to owning house elves, home cooking gets tiresome after a while." He smiled at the eager young waitress who came to pour them water and take their drink order, smoothly requesting the Vin de Clémentine and amused at how out of his element Harry was.

"Bread roll?" he asked, taking a small bite of his own, finally taking pity on Harry's cluelessness and helping him to order a very promising Feuilleté de Ris de Veau for starters, choosing the Fricassée de Gambas for himself.

And it was a good thing that he had to concentrate on helping Harry to get over his unease over the setting, because he was feeling a bit uncomfortable himself. This... they just didn't do this kind of thing together. Getting dressed nicely, going to a fancy restaurant not to meet with anybody, not to grab some food on the run, but just to be... together... it wasn't anything they were used to.

And perhaps he should think about that.

Later. Not right now. Right now was a good time to drink in the relaxed atmosphere, enjoy his Magret de Canard, and appreciate the way that Harry's initial nervousness had melted with the wine and the Braised Veal. Enjoy the way he blushed slightly at Draco's sotte voce suggestions for after-dinner activities, which Draco kept dropping at carefully calculated intervals in their otherwise perfectly socially acceptable conversation.

Granger hadn't said anything about dirty talk at the dinner table, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

"You know..." Harry said hesitantly over his veal, trailed off, then shook his head and said gently. "I didn't... I don't need this."

"Need what?"

"This... the expensive dinner, the Time Turner - I'm really, erm, touched that you did this, but I wasn't - that wasn't what I meant yesterday when I asked - I mean, I don't need-"

"I know you don't need it," Draco broke in, a trifle irate. "It's not about need."

"What's it about, then?"

"You're going through enough shite right now, with all the missions you go on," Draco said uncomfortably, wishing Harry would just drop the subject. "Why not have a good time once in a while?"

"I do have a good time, when I'm home. You don't need to-"

"You can have a better time. You can take the time to celebrate one whole year together without killing each other. Celebrate being happy together." He paid close attention to his meal, realizing he was cutting the duck with the same precision he usually saved for slicing frog entrails.

"I-"

"Harry, just say thank you."

Harry blushed and dropped his eyes. "Thank you." He cleared his throat, took a sip of his drink and looked around appreciatively. "This place is..." he trailed off, smiling slightly.

"You like it?"

"Yeah. Feels almost decadent." Draco smiled, and Harry smiled back. "You probably grew up with this kind of thing, didn't you?"

"The wizarding version, anyway. Remarkably similar."

Harry hesitated briefly. "D'you miss it a lot?" he asked quietly.

Draco thought a bit, then shrugged. "Not as much I thought I would. After all, I don't get the fancy restaurants, but I also don't get emotional abuse, so it all works out rather well," he said, keeping his tone light. "And I don't have to worry about Aurors and other sundry uncouth persons suspecting me of all sorts of Dark things, or interrogating me, or traipsing through the grounds of my home."

"But it's not the same ancestral home, is it?"

"Well, no."

"Our flat is..."

"Comfortable. And safe. Even though it's distressingly close to your friends, and I'm not entirely thrilled at how often they traipse through it." Draco speared his last piece of broccoli. "It's better than the safehouse I was in a few months ago." He shrugged. "Besides, this won't go on forever. Someday enough of the Death Eaters will be caught that we'll be able to live properly. Meantime, it's not that bad."

"I didn't expect you to think so."

Draco smirked at him. "Just don't ever tell Granger and Weasley," he said, and looked up as their waitress came by again with a dessert tray.

"How is everything?" she asked, smiling at both of them, but a little wider at Draco.

"Very good, thank you," they both said.

"Would you care for dessert tonight?"

"What would you recommend?" Draco asked.

"We've received a lot of compliments for the Bavarois tonight."

"Thank you, that'll be fine. Harry?"

"Sorbet, please."

"Very well," she said, and gave Draco a flirtatious look from beneath lowered eyelashes as she cleared their dinner plates and served their desserts. "Will there be anything else? More wine, perhaps?"

"No thank you."

"Just let me know if you need anything," she said, and came rather close to giving him a wink as she left.

Draco's eyebrows went up. "Did you see that?"

Harry's eyebrows had come down and his eyes were slightly narrowed.

"I take it you did," Draco said, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "Down, Harry."

"What?"

"You're, erm, looking irate."

Harry frowned at him. "Not terribly thrilled at some tart of a waitress flirting with my spouse on our anniversary," he said, going for a light tone of voice and utterly failing.

Draco snorted indelicately. "Yes, somehow I got that impression."

"Are they supposed to do that? With a customer?" Harry asked.

"In a place like this? No, they're supposed to be discreet and unobtrusive. She must be new at the job. Or in heat." Harry's scowl had diminished only very slightly. "Harry, really. It's not like I'm going to skip off with her into the loo between the final coffee and the bill."

"Yeah," Harry said tersely.

"You're absolutely fuming."

"I am not."

"It's quite hot."

Harry flushed. "No it's not."

"Oh, it is. I've half a mind to throw up a LookNot Charm and slip under the table and see just how h-"

"Draco!"

"Or even better, get you to slip under the table and-"

"All right, all right," Harry said, amusement now mixed in with his embarrassment.

"Feeling better?" Draco smirked.

"Loads."

"She's utterly not my type, you know," Draco said reassuringly.

"Muggle?"

"Muggle and female," Draco said, savouring the Bavarois.

"I thought you... you went out with girls before we got together," Harry said, a little puzzled.

Draco shrugged. "I've nothing against them," he said, "but I think I prefer men. Less complicated."

"Oh." Harry frowned slightly.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"No, come on."

"Nothing, nothing."

Draco blew out his breath with annoyance. "Don't make me point out that one of the reasons men are less complicated is that you generally don't have to ask them what they're thinking a dozen times before they give in and tell you."

"I just... I wonder sometimes."

"About what?"

"Girls. Not that I wonder as in, you know, wanting to do anything about it, just... I don't know. I get... I guess, curious or... something."

Draco blinked. "Well, I'm glad you cleared that up. What are you talking about?"

"You know... breasts, that kind of thing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And doing, you know, erm, romantic things. I didn't - I don't really know how."

"Well, I can't help you on the breasts part of it, and romance between two men isn't the same," Draco admitted. "But it does exist."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Just differently."

"How?"

"Well," Draco finished his dessert and put down his spoon, feigning a confidence he didn't really feel. "Do you want to order coffee or should we just get the bill?"

"Oh." Harry shot a furtive glance around for their waitress. "Erm, the bill."

"All right, then," Draco waved her over. "We're going to get out of here and go flying together. And then we're going to bed."


	3. Chapter 3

It was full dark by the time they got to their hotel room, and Harry glanced around the tastefully decorated black and chestnut room appreciatively. "Wow. This place is classy. The last hotel I stayed at had roaches."

Draco shuddered. "You know, it's really not necessary to share details like that with me."

"Sorry," Harry laughed. "You know, I wouldn't have thought it would work, going flying during a date, but it was nice." He pulled Draco close and Draco mentally congratulated himself on the idea. It had been rather nice, and it was even nicer to feel how simultaneously energized and relaxed they both were.

"Unfortunately it got rid of a bit of the buzz from the wine at dinner," Draco observed. "I was rather enjoying that."

"I think rooms like this come with stocked fridges." Harry looked around. "Yeah, here we go." He opened the small fridge. "Oh, and they've got Scotch."

"I still can't believe I like Muggle Scotch more than Icegin. My father would probably eat his own spleen if he heard me say anything like that."

"Right, then." Harry accio'd the bottle and Draco accio'd glasses, and Harry motioned over to the small couch in the room.

"Mm, that's nice," Draco said as they took a sip of the Scotch.

Harry waved his wand with a concentrated look on his face.

"What are you doing?"

"Putting on music."

"You've finally learned a music spell? Be still my heart."

"Hermione taught it to me." The soft strains of something that sounded vaguely familiar trickled into the room.

"Is this the-"

"Yeah, it's the new thing from the Eldritches," Harry said, suppressing a proud beam only half-successfully.

"How did you know I liked them?"

"I don't know, several of your letters saying so might have tipped me off." Harry shifted closer on the couch and Draco took his mouth in a kiss. Mm, yes, very nice, the sharp taste and scent of Scotch blending with their kisses.

He sighed as their kiss broke off and they put down their glasses, and Harry drew him closer, the music lilting in the background as they kissed again. Harry's hands drew through his hair and Draco was hard-pressed not to purr from the feel of it.

"The colour spell's finally almost gone, isn't it?" Harry said, running a lock of Draco's hair through his fingers, utterly breaking the nascent mood.

Draco rolled his eyes and sat back, laying his head on Harry's shoulder as Harry continued to stroke his hair. "Finally. I'm never going to listen to my cousin again."

"That wasn't Tonk's fault, you know that. The spell usually only lasts one month. She'd done it before to other people being hidden by the Order."

"Yes, I know that, but when I agreed to go underground and have a concealment spell put on me, I honestly thought I'd get to choose what I looked like. And I honestly thought the person putting the spell on me wouldn't trip over her own feet during the casting and end up swishing a little too hard and making the spell twice as potent."

"She was in a hurry."

"She should've asked me. And I'm sorry, but you can't say it's a coincidence that the colour she chose for my hair was _ginger_."

Harry snickered. "Well, no."

"Bloody six months I had that awful colour. All I needed was freckles and my joy would've been complete. Weasley couldn't stop laughing every time he saw me."

"Neither could I." Harry chuckled, then kissed him. "It's almost gone now. And hopefully you won't ever have to do it again."

"Thank god." Draco let his head fall back against the couch as Harry rubbed the back of his neck, apparently trying to comfort him, and succeeding remarkably well.

"Feels good?"

"Mm, yeah."

"By the way, why are we here?" Harry aske, looking around curiously. "I mean, it's a nice place, but why not home?"

"Well, Granger said she would offer to clear out of our place for the night, but pointed out that we'd run into her and ourselves if we went back there tonight. Don't forget, right now you're going to bed alone and I'm staying up with my Pepper-Up potion. Or maybe I'm already talking to Granger."

There was a long silence as Harry rubbed his neck and Draco felt himself drift on the wave of warmth from the whiskey, the music, the dinner, and Harry's nearness.

"I love that you did this for me," Harry said shyly.

Draco decided to leave his eyes closed and gratefully remembered that the light was low so that Harry couldn't see his blush. "Mm. You're welcome."

"Let's... not do it only once a year," Harry suggested. "It's been... nice."

"We're not celebrating our anniversary every month," Draco laughed.

"That's not what I meant, you prat. I meant going out."

"Sure. That would be nice."

"And going out on our anniversary might be nice too."

"Yeah, all right."

Harry suddenly smiled. "Nicer than what you said you were going to do the first time we talked about it."

"Talked about what?"

"Our anniversary."

"We talked about it?"

"No, not really, it was just in passing. You promised to point and laugh at me every anniversary."

"Did I?" Draco chuckled.

"You were making fun of the fact that I'd forgotten the new Quidditch regulation that we were arguing about when we got hit by the first bond spell. You don't remember that?"

"Not at all. I don't think that has to be saved for special occasions, though; mocking you is more like a daily necessity, I'd say."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, and I love you too." He kissed Draco again and Draco kissed him back, a little startled, but letting the statement go in favour of deepening their kiss.

"I still can't believe you did this," Harry said as they broke apart.

"Why? It's not that out of character, is it?" He thought for a moment. "All right, maybe it is."

"No, it's not just that, it's that..."

"What?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I just... I could understand if you didn't want to celebrate this."

"Why not? You know I chose to be with you."

"Yeah, you did. But now you don't have much of a choice about staying with me."

"Why not?"

Harry cleared his throat and pulled away a bit. There was a long pause while he picked at the seam of his trousers and seemed to be debating what to say. "You don't have anywhere else to go, Draco," he finally said reluctantly. "You left your whole life behind to be with me."

Draco frowned. "Oh really? Why, what would you do if I left you? Throw me out with only my Black family resources, onto the mercy of the Death Eaters?"

"No, of course not."

"Then what would you do? If we split up?"

"Are we talking divorce on our anniversary?"

Draco chuckled. "Don't change the subject. What would you do?"

"I wouldn't throw you out like that."

"You'd give me some money to start with, wouldn't you? Even if I cheated on you, lied to you, and vowed to never call Granger anything but the M-word for the rest of my life?"

Harry rolled his eyes impatiently. "Yeah, of course."

"I'm serious. What would you do if I did all of that?"

"I would make sure you were taken care of. I don't need all the money I have."

"Would you make sure I had enough?"

"What's enough?"

"What do you think enough would be?" he countered.

"I don't know, Draco," Harry said impatiently. "Half my Gringott's vault?"

Draco realized his mouth had dropped open, and closed it. "Now is that to provide for me, or for me and the pool chap I left you for as well as assorted hangers-on and various females of varying breast size?"

"What?"

"It's clear why Arithmancy could never be one of your favourite courses, Harry. That's a ridiculously large sum."

"But it's - you were a Malfoy, you had a lot of-"

"Good god, I know my father bought the Slytherin Quidditch team Nimbus 2001s in second year, but that's ridiculous. We weren't that rich, you know."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I just thought you'd get half of what I own if we divorced."

"Well then it's a good thing you can't marry a pureblood witch, because that's not how it would work. That's insane."

"I didn't know, all right? Besides, why not half?"

"Think of the Malfoys for a moment. D'you think they'd have anything left if every time a Malfoy spouse got fed up, she took half the family fortune?"

"Maybe I assumed that it'd be balanced out by mercenary Malfoy daughters bringing half of their rich ex-husbands' estate with them when they came back to the family."

"Hm. Good point," Draco admitted. "Still, that's not how it works."

"Fine, fine. I can't believe we're arguing about me being overly generous with my idea of alimony. What did you think I would give you?"

"I don't know, enough for me to go on with my life. Without having to worry about having to work or paying to hide from your outraged fan club or Death Eaters."

"Right."

"So why do you think I'm still with you?"

"Well, you don't have-"

"We just established that I do have elsewhere to go. I could take your even more generous than I thought alimony, get myself a nice flat, and find a buxom beauty and start having children."

"I suppose so."

"So why am I still with you, Harry? I don't know if you'd noticed, but our flat doesn't have the nicest view. It's also woefully short on buxom beauties."

Harry smiled slightly. "And who would you spend time with?"

"Not Granger and Weasley, for one thing," Draco said sourly. "Nor would I have to deal with making Wolfsbane once a month, or Molly Weasley's incessant fussing, or the Terrible Twins making our home a swamp every time you invite them over for dinner..." Draco trailed off.

There was a short silence. "What are you thinking?"

"Wondering what the fuck I'm still doing with you, as a matter of fact. Missing the Twins' pranks alone sounds heavenly."

Harry laughed. "You're probably just in it for the shagging."

"Ah. Yeah, there is that."

"And the avoidance of annoying girly things."

Draco laughed. "That's also a plus. No obsession with hearts and flowers."

"Going to La Barbe instead of the Madame Puddifoot's," Harry said, smiling to himself.

"Ew."

"Especially on Valentine's Day. That's where Cho Chang wanted us to go, on the one date we had."

"Oh god. The Heart Sick-up, that's what Pansy called it. She could be unbelievably girly, but that place even surpassed her limit." Harry laughed. "It was almost as nauseating as Umbridge's kittens."

"I thought you liked Umbridge."

"Erm, well, I liked what she let us Slytherins get away with, but those kittens on her wall were horrifying. Almost made me piss myself the first time I saw them. And considering what I grew up with, that's saying a great deal."

Harry raised his glass. "To no kittens."

"No kittens. Ever. And no doilies."

"No cherubs."

"No Pygmy Puffs. Or tiny twittery hyperactive owls."

"Pidwidgeon belongs to Ron," Harry pointed out.

"You still can't tell me it's a manly familiar."

"Well, no."

"No pink, either. Chocolate is good, though. Even if it's in a heart shape."

"You can always twist it into a snake shape."

Draco's eyes gleamed. "And then you can hiss at it."

Harry groaned. "Oh, god, of course I would end up with somebody who actually gets off on Parseltongue."

"You'd prefer it if I ran screaming when you did it?"

"All right, no, but still..."

"Consider yourself lucky."

"I do." Harry gave him a quick kiss. "Even though I don't get kittens."

Draco hesitated a moment. "And it doesn't bother you that you won't get to... to know what it's like, with a girl?"

"No." Harry stood and held out his hand to Draco. "Come on, let's go to bed."

"Right." Draco let himself be pulled up to his feet and started to undo his shirt buttons as Harry headed for the washroom, then paused at the door.

"Erm. I'm... I'm sorry I didn't think to do anything for today," he said quietly. Draco glanced at him, startled, and gave a small chuckle.

"Don't worry about it. I wouldn't have expected you to."

Harry frowned. "Why not?"

Draco shook his head and looked away. "You're busy," he said dismissively.

"I still could have."

"Don't worry about it," Draco said, suddenly very uncomfortable.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You're busy."

"Don't go girl on me now," Harry said quietly after a pause.

Draco sighed and met Harry's eyes. Fine. Harry had been honest with him, and maybe Draco should return the favour even if that honesty left a slightly bitter taste in his mouth.

"Because I can choose to walk away from this. I could choose to walk away from you before I married you. You didn't get that choice back then, and you don't really have a choice now."

Harry stared at him. "What do you mean I don't have a choice?"

Draco smiled bitterly. "Come on. You said it yourself: you don't think I have anywhere to go. And you're too bloody noble to walk away, after I left everything to be with you." He finished unbuttoning his shirt, turning away from Harry, feeling a little hollow. Damn marital honesty anyway, he thought as he pulled the shirt off. Really, there was nothing better at killing any hint of a mood.

Suddenly Harry was right there behind him, arms going around Draco and pulling him back against Harry's chest, and he nuzzled his neck and worked his way up to Draco's ear, hesitating with his mouth next to Draco's ear for a moment before turning Draco around in his arms and latching on to his lips. Draco felt a moan escape him as their kiss became more heated, and spared a moment's wonder at how quickly a mood could come back when Harry put his mind to it.

Harry was pulling him back towards the bed, and fumbling with his belt buckle as Draco started on Harry's shirt buttons, and the heat between them was growing stronger. This was rather better than any conversation could have been, and _Merlin_ but Harry was hot when he got this intense. It made everything else fade away - the unfamiliar setting, the Scotch, whatever the hell they'd been talking about, all of it. He gasped as Harry pulled his belt free and started working his way into Draco's trousers, and he redoubled his efforts at getting Harry's shirt off despite the dizzying things Harry's fingers were starting to do to him-

And suddenly Harry stopped. Draco groaned in frustration, ending in a gasp as he felt Harry's breath in his ear and a tongue dart out to lick his earlobe.

"I'm not that noble," Harry whispered breathlessly. Draco closed his eyes as a shiver ran through him and Harry threaded his hands through Draco's hair. "I'm here because I want to be too. And damn you for thinking any different."

And he pressed Draco back onto the bed and took away all his doubts.

- End.


End file.
